House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City, #2)

Tharion offered him a razor-sharp smile. “Absolutely nothing.” A threat of violence simmered beneath the words. If Cormac breathed anything to the mer, to the River Queen, the Avallen Prince would find himself in a watery grave.

Cormac sighed. And to her shock, he said, “I apologize for the knife.” To Hunt, he said, “And I apologize for threatening your mate.”

Ruhn asked, “Don’t I get an apology?” Cormac bristled, but Ruhn grinned.

Bryce caught Hunt watching her, his expression proud. Like she’d done something worthy. Had it been her smooth weaving of lies and truth?

“Apology accepted,” Bryce said, forcing herself to sound chipper. Steering away from the topic of Emile. “Now back to training.”

Cormac shrugged, pointing to the spots he’d taped off: X’s on the floor, atop chairs, atop piled mats, beneath a table.

Bryce groaned, but marked them, cataloged the path she’d take.

“Well, that was exciting,” Tharion announced, groaning as he got to his feet. “Right. I’m out.”

Hunt arched a brow. “Where to?”

“I’m still technically employed by the River Queen. Regardless of what happened with Emile, there are other matters to attend to.”

Bryce waved at him. But Ruhn said, “Dinner tonight?”

Tharion winked. “You got it.” Then he sauntered through the metal doors and was gone.

“All right, Athalar,” Bryce muttered when the mer had shut the doors. “Time to level up.”

Hunt laughed, but his lightning flared again. “Let’s do this, Your Highness.”

There was something in the way he said Your Highness that made her realize that the expression on his face a moment before hadn’t been pride in her manipulation—it had been pride in the way she’d defused things without violence. Like he thought she might actually deserve the title she now bore.

Bryce tucked the thought aside. By the time the bolt of lightning slammed into her chest, she was already running.

Despite the exhaustion weighing on his very bones, despite the urgency that had sent him and Hypaxia racing here, Ithan couldn’t help gaping from the doorway as the party girl he’d loved moved through the Aux training space like the wind, vanishing and appearing at will. At his side, Hypaxia monitored the remarkable feats, studying Bryce intently.

Bryce finished the obstacle course and halted at Hunt’s side, bending over her knees to catch her breath.

Hypaxia cleared her throat, stepping into the gymnasium. Even the queen looked … ruffled after the endless, terrifying night they’d had.

They’d passed Tharion on his way out. The mer had been speaking in low tones to someone on the phone, and had raised his brows with concern at the sight of the dirt and sweat on them. But whoever had been on the phone must have been important enough that he couldn’t hang up, and Tharion had only continued on after Hypaxia had given him a gesture that seemed to assure him that she was fine. The mer had stopped and peered back over a shoulder at Ithan, as if needing to confirm the queen’s claim, but Ithan had nothing to offer him. What the Hel could he say? They weren’t fine. Not at all. So they’d left Tharion in the hall, the mer staring after them for a long moment.

“What’s up?” Ruhn asked Ithan, waving his greeting to Hypaxia. Then the prince did a double take. “What the Hel happened to you two? I thought you were summoning Connor.”

The others in the training space halted.

“We did indeed try to summon Connor Holstrom last night,” Hypaxia said gravely.

Bryce paled as she hurried over. “What happened? Is Connor all right? Are you guys all right?”

Ithan’s throat worked. “Ah …”

Hypaxia replied for him, “We did not encounter Connor. The Under-King answered.”

“What happened?” Bryce asked again, voice rising.

Ithan met her stare. Pure predatory wolf gleamed there. “He detained us for his amusement. Sicced Flame and Shadow’s nightmare dogs on us and warded us into an olive grove with them. It took Hypaxia until now to figure out an exit through the wards that wouldn’t get us ripped to shreds. We’re fine, though.” Ruhn whirled with alarm to his fiancée, and the witch-queen nodded solemnly, shadows in her eyes. Ithan scrubbed at his face before he added, “He wants to see you at Urd’s Temple.”

Hunt’s lightning sparked at his fingertips. “Fuck no.”

Ithan swallowed hard. “You don’t have a choice.” He turned, pleading and exhausted, to Bryce. “Connor is safe for right now, but if you don’t show within an hour, the Under-King will throw him and the rest of the Pack of Devils through the Gate immediately. He’ll make secondlight of them all.”





64

Tharion strolled through the Meat Market, casually browsing the stalls. Or at least, he tried to appear casual. While surveying an array of luck stones, he kept an ear open. In the midday bustle, the general assortment of lowlifes had come here for lunch, shopping, or fucking, and at this point, they’d likely have downed at least a few drinks. Which meant loose tongues.

I hear the bitch is already pregnant, one satyr grunted to another as they sat around a barrel converted into a table, smoked kebabs half-eaten in front of them. Ephraim’s been fucking her good.

Tharion pushed aside his disgust at the crude words. He hated that word—bitch. How many times had it been thrown at his sister whenever she’d ventured Above? She’d always laughed it off, and Tharion had laughed it off with her, but now … He shook off the pang of guilt and moved to the next stall, full of various types of mushrooms from the damp forests to the northeast.

He checked his phone—the quick message exchange between him and Pax.

What happened? Are you all right? he’d written nearly an hour ago, after running into her and Holstrom in the hall of the Aux training center. She’d been dirty and tired-looking, and he hadn’t been able to so much as ask if she was okay, because he’d been on the phone with the River Queen. Who had wanted updates on Emile.

Which was why he had come here. To maintain the fiction that he was hunting for the kid. He figured he’d do some listening to the idle chatter while pretending, though. Pick up gossip from the city creeps.

His phone buzzed, and Tharion scanned the message on the screen before loosing a long breath. Hypaxia had written, I’m fine. Just some Flame and Shadow posturing.

He didn’t like that one bit. But what the Hel could he do about any of it?

“Lion’s head is in season,” said the gnome perched on a stool behind the baskets of fungi, drawing Tharion from his thoughts. “Morels finished their run, but I’ve got one last basket left.”

“Only browsing,” Tharion said, flashing a smile at the rosy-cheeked, red-capped male.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” the gnome said, and Tharion again tuned in to the tables behind him.

Fight last night was brutal. There was nothing left of that lion after—

I drank so much I can’t remember who the Hel I was fucking—

—that dragon finished with them. Only embers—

I need more coffee. They should give us the day off after a holiday, you know?

Tharion stilled. Slowly turned, pinpointing the speaker who’d snagged his attention.

Dragon.